Casebook 10: The Case Of The Stolen Letter
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and Jenny undertake a different form of investigation when a young couple's future happiness is threatened.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Stolen Letter  
AUTHOR: Talepiece  
RATING: 12 cert.  
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny  
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra  
CONTINUITY: This is the second story in the third volume of Vastra and Jenny stories.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, I just borrow them every now and then.  
CREDITS: This story is based on Wilkie Collin's _The Lawyer's Story Of The Stolen Letter_ from the _After Dark_ collection.  
NOTE: I've had broadband woes this month (it seems to be my year for that sort of thing) so I'm still catching up with emails, etc. Apologies if you've contacted me via the TP site recently, it may take me a while to clear the backlog. Many thanks, as always, for the lovely reviews on FFnet.  
POSTED: September 2014

* * *

When the impending marriage of Mr Frank Gatliffe and Miss Adelaide Wilcox was threatened by the existence of an incriminating letter, Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint found themselves undertaking a rather different form of investigation.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint.  
London, 1948.

* * *

Jenny Flint moved around the home that she shared with her colleague and companion Madame Vastra with the slow, determined air of a woman set upon cleaning house to her own exacting standards. They had returned from their weeks at the coast largely renewed and entirely ready to take up their work once more. Only to find that London was oddly quiet or at least its criminal elements appeared to be so.

The one case that Jenny was most interested in exploring - the long series of dreadful attacks that had plagued the capital for some time - was being kept very close to the chest of certain members of the Metropolitan Police and the Civil Service. Even Vastra's wide reach and keen intellect had been unable to talk them into a position to investigate.

Instead, Vastra had retired to her lab and Jenny had hoped to visit with her cousin Lucy. Only to be informed in a surprisingly curt fashion that Miss Flint was not at home to visitors. Jenny had been greatly worried by it but Vastra had made the more rational suggestion that perhaps the couple were busy at the moment on other matters. Jenny had accepted that explanation but she wasn't happy with it and she wasn't too sure that she believed it either.

So with nothing else to occupy her time and mind, Jenny had determined to clean their home from top to bottom. Discounting the aforementioned lab, of course, since that was Vastra's own domain and out of the lengthy reach of Jenny's duster. That very duster was seeking out the smallest crevices and the narrowest openings that might - should they be so foolish - harbour Jenny Flint's worst enemy: dirt.

The console table in the hallway was saved from this fierce attack when the doorbell rang. Jenny was close by and the sudden interruption to her concentration had her offering a few choice words to no-one in particular before she straightened her cap and apron and answered the door.

Beyond stood the tall figure of Mr Frank Gatliffe, his hands twisted together in agitation, his face pale with worry. The young man's expression shifted to one of relief for a moment before his eyes darkened once more and he began to speak immediately.

"Miss Flint, how relieved I am to find you at home!"

"Mr Gatliffe, Sir," Jenny said, stepping back from the door to invite him in, "Why, whatever's wrong? Not Miss Adelaide, I hope?"

"I'm afraid so," he said but stopped when he saw Jenny's reaction, "Oh, goodness me, no, no, Miss Flint, Miss Wilcox is quite well, indeed she has made a most remarkable recovery from her recent ill-health."

"Well, I'm very glad to hear it, Sir. But what on Earth is the matter?"

"Something terrible, truly awful and I really must beg you and Madame Vastra to come to our aid. There's not a moment to lose, I assure you."

Jenny calmed him down as best she could, finally settling him into one of the comfortable chairs by the fire. He refused all offer of the balm of tea, continually insisting that the matter must be dealt with this very moment.

Jenny left the room to draw Vastra from her labours only to find the imposing figure entering the hallway from the little door beyond the stairs. Jenny indicated that she should don her veil and gloves before hitching a thumb towards the sitting room and mouthing, "Frank Gatliffe, in a state."

The tilt of Vastra's head was enough to communicate both her curiosity and her concern but Jenny could only shrug and turn back for the sitting room. Mr Gatliffe rose politely as they entered, offering them a stiff little bow and again speaking immediately.

"Madame Vastra! I beg you to hear what I have to say and act upon it this instant."

"Mr Gatliffe," Vastra said in a firm tone, "pray, be seated and calm yourself. There is nothing to be gained from flying into a panic."

Gatliffe's eyes flared to anger but her did as Vastra commanded and fell into his seat with a deep sigh of discontent.

"Now," Vastra continued, "what is wrong and how may Miss Flint and I be of assistance? Calmly," she added, a hand raised to emphasise her point, "and succinctly, Mr Gatliffe, if you will. From the beginning."

To his credit, the young man took a moment to compose himself before he spoke and when he did so, his tone was a little calmer.

"Madame, as you may know, Miss Wilcox has done me the great honour of consenting to be my wife."

"We did indeed," Vastra said.

"And were most happy to hear it," Jenny added.

"It was not easy, I must say, for my father had grave reservations but Miss Wilcox's charm, allied to her own late father's exemplary military record, won the old man around."

"You are to be married soon, are you not?"

"We are Madame, in but two weeks. I trust you will both be present?"

"We'd love to," Jenny said, "But if things are going so well, what's got you in such a flap, Sir?"

Mr Gatliffe's face fell into melancholy once more, his hands finding each other to twist themselves into tight knots.

"Something quite dreadful has happened, ladies, something that threatens the happiness of both myself and Miss Wilcox and something that I am here to beg you to set right in whatever manner you see fit. I really cannot imagine that there is anyone else in London - nay, the world, ladies - who could set our future back on course."

He was working himself into a panic again and Jenny felt Vastra's impatience through the heavy lace of her veil. She stepped closer to his chair and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Easy now, Sir, eh? Perhaps it'd be best if Madame asked you some questions and you just answered them."

Gatliffe nodded, gathering himself once more and reddening in embarrassment as he realised quite how wild he must sound. Without another word, he indicated that he was ready to begin the interview anew.

"Very well," Vastra began, "May I surmise that some party - or parties - learning of your impending wedding thanks to the recent announcement has made it known to you that they are cognisant of some piece of information of which they ought not to be?"

Gatliffe blinked at Vastra for a moment, "Why, Madame, you really are most remarkable."

Not really, thought Jenny, who could have worked that much out for herself. Still, that little parlour trick had impressed Gatliffe enough to settle him still further and now he appeared quite calm and ready to respond in a considered manner.

"And whatever this piece of information is," Jenny said, "it might give Mr Archibald Gatliffe cause to rethink his attitude towards his son's marriage?"

"He'd withdraw his consent forthwith, of that I have no doubt. And I know," Gatliffe looked up at Jenny, "that you think we should go ahead even without his blessing but I really would prefer to do so with it."

"That is most understandable," Vastra said, knowing that family support was a rather delicate subject for her lover and not wishing the topic to be dwelt upon. Instead, she asked, "And the nature of this information?"

"A letter. One written in the late Colonel Wilcox's own hand."

"Genuine?" Jenny said, thinking of Mr Draper's great talent.

"Oh yes, of that Miss Wilcox is quite certain."

"How so, Mr Gatliffe?"

"Well, Madame, because she had opportunity to examine this letter and confirm its validity."

This fact appeared to excite his ire once more and Jenny placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him yet again.

"Someone approached her directly?" she said, "Not through you or a third party?"

"This very morning - not two hours ago - the scoundrel had the audacity to walk up to Miss Wilcox as she returned to Mrs Dayton's house from a visit to Doctor Holmes. Just walked right up to her and told her that he had been watching for a chance that they might speak privately."

"Miss Wilcox wasn't hurt?" Jenny said.

"No, thank the Lord."

"And he showed her the original?"

"He did, allowing her to read it but not, of course, to retain it. He also handed over this," Gatliffe reached into his pocket and pulled out another letter, "directed to me."

"And then?" Jenny prompted.

"Why, Miss Wilcox said that he bowed and walked away as if off for a morning stroll!"

Jenny took the proffered letter and carried it to Vastra, remaining by her side so that she could read it over her lover's shoulder. Vastra read the directions before opening the already-broken seal and unfolding the paper. It read:

"To Francis Gatliffe, Esq., Sir, I have an extremely curious autograph letter to sell for the sum of one five hundred-pound note. The young lady to whom you are to be married will inform you of the nature of the letter and the genuineness of the autograph. If you refuse to deal, I shall send a copy to the local paper. I shall also wait on your highly-respected father with the original curiosity. You shall find me care of The Golden Cross. Your very obedient servant, Alfred Davager."

"And this Davager," Jenny said, "who is he?"

"The late Colonel's clerk and a terrible cad by all accounts."

"Though also a clever one," Vastra said.

"Clever! He should be horsewhipped within an inch of his life. I should have done it too but for Adelaide making me promise to come to you immediately."

"Miss Wilcox is most wise."

"Wiser than I, you mean?" Gatliffe said with a flash of bitter humour.

"Wiser than most, Sir. Now," Vastra considered the letter for a moment more, "what is it that this 'autograph letter' exposes?"

"Ah," here Gatliffe hesitated, his hands turning upon themselves for a different reason.

"Don't you worry, Sir," Jenny encouraged him, "whatever's said in this house remains private."

"On that, you have our word," Vastra added.

Gatliffe gave them a wane smile and said, "This letter stands as irrefutable proof of the poor judgement of the late Colonel Wilcox."

"Any one of us could be accused of poor judgement at some point in our lives, Mr Gatliffe," Vastra said, "Pray, be a little more specific."

"As to that, it will require that I explain a little about the past history of Miss Wilcox's father."

"Right you are then, Sir," Jenny said.

"Very well," again Gatliffe paused, collected his thoughts and then said, "Quite early in our acquaintance, Miss Wilcox was speaking so prettily of her father that I was encouraged to enquire, amongst other things, as to the occasion of his passing.

"It appears that he suffered a great distress of mind due to a secret that Miss Wilcox and her late mother had determined to keep even after his death. It seems that the great mistake of the Colonel's life was buying out of the army to take up the wine trade. He had little head for business and the venture was doomed from the start, though helped on its way by his clerk, who was suspected of cheating him."

"One Alfred Davager?"

"Yes, Madame, one and the same."

"And the specifics of the letter?" Jenny said.

"The Colonel's affairs became more and more entangled; he faced bankruptcy and - as he saw it - dishonour. Debtors appeared from all sides and the terrible situation quite drove his wits from him."

"And he signed a letter in a manner that wasn't his to sign," Jenny said in a kindly tone.

"Yes," Gatliffe looked crestfallen, as if he spoke of his own father, "His principle creditor refused to wait until the Colonel had sold enough of his assets to repay the sum in full and so he signed a bill in the name of another gentleman."

"And this gentleman?"

"A staunch friend of the Colonel's and a good man too, I should say. As soon as the bill was presented, he honoured the debt and returned the bill to Colonel Wilcox. As I understand it, the evidence was thrown into the fire and destroyed."

"So this letter represents the late Colonel Wilcox's heartfelt thanks to his friend, does it not?"

"It does, Madame. The Colonel wrote swearing to repay both the kindness and the debt in full - as, indeed, Mrs and Miss Wilcox did most creditably - and offering his abject apologies for his behaviour."

"But the letter wasn't sent; our Mr Davager filched it instead," Jenny said.

"Yes."

"And now he presents it at a time guaranteed to extract the most from its existence," Vastra added.

"He's certainly sharp," Jenny said, "Now, Sir, are you quite sure that there's only one copy of this letter about?"

"Miss Wilcox believes so and I have no reason to doubt her."

"And are you willing to pay?" Vastra asked.

"If it is necessary, I most certainly will. There is no chance of my father's continued agreement to our match should this information be made public. Besides," tears came to Gatliffe's eyes, "Miss Wilcox says that, should it do so, she would rather die than allow me to marry her."

"That will certainly not be necessary," Vastra said.

"Easy now, Sir," Jenny said, patting the young man's back as he calmed himself visibly, "There you are. Now, what is it exactly that you want us to do? Broker the deal with Davager or get the letter off him by some other means?"

Gatliffe blinked up at her, confused by the question.

"I believe that Miss Flint means to ascertain how closely you would wish to guard not just Miss Wilcox's reputation but also your money."

"Hang the money!" Gatliffe said, then appeared contrite, "Ah, sorry about that but I don't care a jot for the money, I want this business dealt with once and for all. I want Miss Wilcox to be safe and free of all concerns in this matter."

"Very well. My dear?" Vastra looked up to Jenny, her head tilted in silent deference.

Jenny took a moment to consider the situation and then smiled, "How about this, Sir, since you're willing to pay out. Let us do our best to get this letter off Davager by our own means and if we can, you pay us the five hundred pounds. If we can't, then we'll broker the deal and pay the five hundred to Davager himself. In exchange for the letter and his guarantees, of course."

Vastra smiled though the heavy lace of her veil and nodded once in agreement before saying to Gatliffe, "You would find this arrangement acceptable?"

"I would," he said excitedly, "Most acceptable, indeed. Do you really think you can bring this matter to a close without the whole sorry business being exposed, Miss Flint?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, I reckon so."

Gatliffe bounced up from his chair and only stopped himself from embracing Jenny by the full force of his good breeding. Instead, he pumped her hand with such gusto that Vastra worried for the appendage. Gatliffe turned his attention to her and took her hand with equal enthusiasm.

"Now, Mr Gatliffe," Vastra said, withdrawing her hand with a sharp tug, "return to your fiance and comfort the dear girl. Do not so much as set eyes upon Davager and remain quiet on this matter. Miss Flint and I will send word when necessary."

"And don't you worry, there's not a letter in the word that will keep you two from being wed," Jenny added.

With that, they shepherded the young man out of the door, sending him on his way to Mrs Dayton's boarding house and his fiance. As Jenny closed the door, Vastra lifted her veil and studied her companion.

"What?"

"It is not like you to take risks with our pay, my dear."

Jenny rolled her eyes, "He's a good sort and heaven knows, Miss Wilcox has been through enough already. That poor gal."

"Indeed," Vastra paused as they returned to the sitting room, "Your plan?"

"I was hoping you had one," Jenny teased.

Vastra smiled, "And I you."

"Well, in that case, I'd say I'll find Archie and you can write to old Davager and arrange a meeting. Not here, though, but where?"

"I was wondering if perhaps Colonel Adams might oblige?"

"Reckon he might and it'd seem right; another old Colonel and all that."

"Then I will visit with the Colonel and Miss Adams and you can hunt out our young friend."


	2. Chapter 2

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Jenny strode through the backstreets of London's less salubrious areas, Archie trotting beside her. Though still far from a dapper gent, the young man was considerably cleaner and better dressed than he had been when first they met. The latter, Jenny ascribed to his recently coming into some money; the former, to his blossoming relationship with little Mosa. Apparently, her presence in Archie's life suited the lad very nicely.

Jenny smiled at him, "Mosa's got that little place of yours looking very pretty."

"Proper gem she is," he beamed back.

Young love, thought Jenny and wished that she could recall one of Vastra's quotes on the subject. Not that Archie would appreciate it but it would certainly make him blush for a moment and Jenny didn't mind that. Instead, she explained the situation as clearly as possible without saying too much that might be overheard.

Archie picked up the gist of it quickly enough and said, "So I watch this bastard while you and the Madame sort out the letter?"

"Something like that."

"And where we going now, then? Not back to your gaff."

They were heading directly for The Golden Cross but there was no hope of hailing a cab in this warren of alleys so Jenny had determined to cut out on to an open thoroughfare and find one there. Once they were settled into the conveyance, Jenny expounded on the matter at hand.

"Problem is, we don't have much time and it's important that not a breath of this business gets back to the gentleman's father."

"Bit of an old sod, is he?"

"You could say that. There's the risk that this Davager might get tricky and play it both ways."

"Always is with folks like that."

And there's a risk of our losing our pay, Jenny added silently but she said, "I want you to watch this Davager no matter where he goes and just you make sure that word gets back to Madame and me whenever you have anything that looks important."

"Aye aye," Archie knuckled his forehead.

Jenny cuffed his ear, though more from habit than malice. Archie merely laughed and glanced out of the window.

"Here we are," Jenny said as the cab slowed to a halt amidst the bustle of the traffic, human and horse-drawn.

A locomotive's whistle shrieked off on the other side of the railway station and Jenny glanced up, wondering when the new underground railway extension might reach this part of London. She paid the driver and they stepped down on to Charing Cross, moving immediately to the back of the hotel and knocking on the kitchen door that stood ever-ajar.

A pinched faced woman of middle years stuck her head out, ready to give them a piece of her mind. She caught sight of Jenny and the hard expression dropped away, replaced by a welcoming smile.

"Well, as I live and breath, if it ain't our Jenny Flint! Come in, gal, come on in."

She ushered them inside with only a slightly wary glance at Archie, most of her attention on Jenny.

"And how are you doing, Esme?" Jenny said, her tone matching that of her old friend.

"Not too bad, my gal, not too bad at all. That is," her face soured once more, "they weren't until this past two day."

"Wouldn't have somethin' to do with a chappy by the name of Davager, would it?" Archie chanced.

Esme's eyes widened in surprise and she glanced from the lad to Jenny and back again.

"Well, well, young Sir, ain't you in the know?" Esme turned back to Jenny and added, "I heard you'd taken up with that Great Detective of yours, didn't realise you was training up an apprentice."

"Oh, Archie here don't need much training. Archie, this is Esme Wade; Esme, meet my friend and sometime colleague, Archie."

Archie's chest buffed out at the description and he gave Esme a mannered little bow. Esme chuckled and returned it with a curtsey of sorts.

Jenny merely rolled her eyes and said, "Now then, this Davager, what's he been up to?"

"Free with his hands, that one. As if it ain't hard enough to keep gals here as it is!" Esme indicated they should take a seat at the kitchen table, "Let me put the kettle on, gal, and you can tell me what brings you here. One of your cases, I have no doubt; I'd pegged that Davager soon as I clapped eyes on him."

Jenny and Esme spoke as they sipped their tea and Archie scoffed down the plate of leftovers from the inn's recently-served breakfast. Jenny listened attentively as Esme explained just what a difficult man Alfred Davager had proven himself to be and then she impressed upon her old friend the importance of their investigation.

"And what is it you want me to do, my gal?" Esme said.

"Let Archie here hang about, I'm sure he'd be happy to help out around the place," Jenny added with a wink to the glaring lad, "and keep an eye out yourself."

"And?"

Jenny smiled, "And tomorrow morning, you tell your Boots that he's to bring down Davager's things first - without emptying the coat pockets or anything else, mind - and let Archie and me have a little look."

"Oh, Davies won't mind that, as long as there's a bob or two in it for him."

"You'll both me looked after, don't you worry about that."

"Well, then -" Esme began but they were interrupted by an old man's shambling entrance into the kitchen.

"Sittin' down on the job again, Esme," he said.

"And what if I am, Ieuan Davies? What if I am? Been here for bleedin' hours and never a bit of help. Terrible problems keeping staff these days," Esme said to Jenny, "Young'n's just won't do the work any more; come in one day and do a flit the next!"

"Can't think who scares them away," Davies muttered darkly.

"Now, then, you, Miss Flint here's offering you cash in hand, if you'll help her and her lad out with a little job."

Davies perked up and listened intently as Jenny explained her requirements. He agreed immediately, apparently no more enamoured of Davager than Esme. Jenny was about to take her leave when Davies suddenly thought of something.

"Ah, you'd be this Miss Flint then," he held up a letter, "It arrived just now and I was wondering why it was addressed to here when we haven't anyone by that name."

Jenny took the letter, recognising Vastra's neat hand. She broke the seal and opened the sheet paper to read her missive.

"My Dear," it read, "Colonel Adams agrees to our request and suggests that we use his club for the rendezvous. I have sent to Davager asking him to meet with the Colonel there at 2pm precisely. I trust you will join us by 1.30pm. Vastra."

Jenny refolded the letter and tucked it into a coat pocket. She glanced up at the kitchen clock and saw that it was closing on midday.

"You delivered the letter to Davager, Mr Davies?"

"That I did," he looked startled, "just now, in fact. Read it twice over, he did, and asked how best to get to Pall Mall. Off to The Rag, he says."

Jenny thanked the man and asked that he install Archie somewhere that would afford him a good view of Davager's movements. A nod to the lad was all that he needed to know his business and he left the kitchen with Davies. Esme glanced at the clock too and gave a shriek of alarm.

"Bleedin' 'ell, look at the time! I've got lunches to make an' all."

Jenny shrugged off her coat and made to roll up her sleeves, "Why don't I give you a hand for an hour before I'm on my way."

* * *

Madame Vastra was not used to having her path barred. Certainly not for long. It had been something of a shock then to find that she was, under absolutely no circumstance, to be allowed to step through the main entrance of The Army And Navy Club - sometimes known as The Rag - on Pall Mall. Women were rarely admitted, she had been informed in a very firm tone, and never via the front door.

All of Vastra's height and bearing had not won through the impenetrable wall of male chauvinism and all of her remarkable reserves of patient had been exhausted in the process. So The Great Detective was forced to enter through the back of the club, foregoing the grand Venetian Renaissance style for a small wooden door used by servants and tradesmen.

Madame Vastra was not amused. Neither, in fairness, was Colonel Adams who in his own gentle form of protest, insisted on accompanying Vastra around St James Square and into the building, apologising with every step.

"Really, Colonel," Vastra said, as kindly as she could manage, "you are not at fault. The endlessly regrettable and might I say, stupid nature of your fellow hu-" Vastra coughed to cover her mistake, cursing her lack of attention, "your fellow males is nothing new to me. But, pray be assured, I do not count you amongst the regrettable or the stupid."

"You're too kind, Madame, too kind indeed. I have a good mind to resign forthwith for the terrible insult this place has done to you. And a lackey sent to deliver the message too! Disgraceful behaviour!"

Vastra calmed him as best she could, though it was no easy feat with her own opinion of 'the lackey' positioned closer to the 'tasty breakfast' end of her esteem. She took pains to calm herself too and her temper was better controlled as they stepped into the comforting heat of the The Rag's large kitchens. Most of the servants were too busy bustling about the place to take any notice of them and only the Cook gave them a great deal of attention.

She noticed Vastra's attire and the Colonel's presence behind her before she could say anything of an unfortunate nature and he quickly allayed her fears by giving a curt explanation as to their unusual entrance.

"Daft buggers," Cook muttered but said no more.

The Colonel guided Vastra deeper into the building, where the lackey waited for them with a nervous countenance.

"Really, Colonel, this is most irregular."

"And it'll be more irregular still, Simons, mark my word."

The man twitched even more, "May I ask why, Colonel?"

"Because Madame Vastra's colleague, Miss Flint will be arriving in a hour or so and I would ask you to show her - politely man! - to the room that the Madame and I will be occupying."

Vastra thought that perhaps, had she been human, she might feel a moment of sympathy for the poor man as he sagged in his stance at this piece of news. Happily, she was not human and had no such weaknesses.

"You will show us to this blessed room now, Mr Simons," she said and it was not a question.

He did as he was bidden and mercifully without comment. When she and the Colonel were safely ensconced far from sight of the delicate flowers that were the British military's officer class, Vastra talked Colonel Adams through his duties as her proxy in this meeting.

"So I get as much out of the blighter as I can and I make sure to get you as much time as possible, eh?"

"Exactly so, Colonel. And, pray, be most careful not to give away any information that may assist Mr Davager in his stated aim."

"Well, Madame, I reckon you've been very careful to avoid giving me that sort of information. And I thank you for it," he added with a firm nod.

A young man in footman's livery entered the room after a polite knock had indicated his presence. He settled a tea tray on the table between their tall leather chairs and offered to pour. Vastra held out a hand to stop him and he took this as the dismissal it was.

Vastra watched the man go and said, "The staff here are trustworthy, yes?"

"Absolutely," Colonel Adams glanced back at the door, "For all that nonsense at the door, I'd stake my life on the discretion of the place."

Vastra hoped he was right - and that they would not need to stake their lives on any of them - but said no more. They sat in companionable silence until another knock came, quickly followed by Jenny's smiling face ushered into the room by the same young footman.

"My dear," Vastra said, "you negotiated the trial of gaining entrance to this place?"

"I heard you'd caused quite a stir. Hello Colonel, how are you?"

"Miss Flint, how lovely to see you again. I hope Simons wasn't too unpleasant."

"Simons? I haven't met him." Vastra and the Colonel looked surprised and Jenny laughed, "I didn't even try for the front door, came in straight through the kitchens and Craig here showed me up."

Vastra beamed at her companion, knowing that Jenny would feel her esteem in that remarkable way she had of judging Vastra's moods and whims. Jenny smiled into her veiled face and gave a faint nod.

"Now then," Jenny said in a more serious tone, "Davager should be here soon so you and I need to get out of the way."

The Colonel stood and showed them to a small door set into the back corner of the room. It opened on to the servants stairs that allowed the maids access to many of the rooms without having to sully the reputation of the place by showing their faces. The little landing was cramped but large enough for both Vastra and Jenny to stand together.

The door was left ajar, just enough to allow conversation spoken in a natural tone to be heard by the two women. Closed, it was of too solid a construction to hear more than the most boisterous repartee.

"It'll be fine, Madame," Jenny whispered to her as Colonel Adams gave the young man some brief instructions, "Davager'll never notice this when he's focused on getting his money."

"I trust you are correct, my dear," Vastra said but had no more time to fret.

Another knock came at the outer door and the Colonel took a moment before bidding them enter. The door opened and a voice that neither woman recognised introduced Mr Alfred Davager in such a dismissive tone that Jenny had to stifle her laughter.

"Mr Davager," the Colonel said in an equally cold tone, "thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I am Colonel Adams and I will be acting as intermediary for the young couple. Please, take a seat. Tea?"

"Reckon not, Colonel, though a nip of something else would not be refused," said a hoarse, flat little voice.

"Francis, would you be so kind?" Colonel Adams said and after the door had closed once more, "Now then, Mr Davager, the matter at hand."

Vastra strained to catch the faintest sight of the man through the thin gap that the door afforded but could see little beyond a narrow strip of the room. She eased back, hopeful that Archie and perhaps her companion might be able to offer any insights that the Colonel may omit.

"The matter at hand, as you say, but I thinks I'll take a drag first. Cigars, Colonel?"

The Colonel's exasperation could be heard in the harrumphing exhale that he gave in response and Jenny hoped that her wouldn't simply grab Davager by the collar and shake the letter out of him. She glanced up at Vastra, knowing from the set of her head that she too had concerns. Still, there was nothing they could do but wait and listen, hoping that their friend and neighbour would play his part.

"Here you are, my good chap," the Colonel said in a tone of forced bon ami.

There came the sounds of a box opened, the rustling of something being removed and then the snap of well-made hinges closing. The striking of a match quickly followed and then a long groan of pleasure from Davager.

"I thank you kindly, Colonel, for that is a very fine smoke indeed."

"It certainly should be. Now, then, if you don't mind?"

"Don't mind at all, Colonel, don't mind at all. You have the five hundred pounds?"

"I do not."

"Well that is a shame, ain't it?"

"You have the letter upon you?" Colonel Adams asked in surprise.

"I have not. Thought it best, just in case things didn't go to plan. And here it is, not going to plan. The five hundred nicker, Colonel?"

"The amount you will receive upon handing over the letter and signing a legal document attesting to it being the sole copy."

Jenny and Vastra stared at each other in surprise. Apparently Davager was equally taken aback for he gave a startled little chuckle that trailed off into a hacking cough.

"And what good would that do you, Colonel? The young people you speak for would surely not wish such a document to be used in open court."

"They certainly would not but it would settle some of my own concerns in this matter."

There was a long pause, interrupted by Francis' return and Davager's loud slurping of whatever beverage he had been given. The sound of an expensive glass being dropped carelessly to an expensive tabletop made Jenny wince. The pause continued for a moment more and Vastra realised what the Colonel's purpose was just as Davager gave up attempting to work out the same.

"Very well, Colonel, though I must say I do not know why you would think it necessary. I am an honest man and will give my word this moment that I have but one original."

"And your own copies, Sir?"

"Well then, you wouldn't expect me to be without insurance, as I might describe it, eh?"

"How many copies?"

"Just two. Both in the hands of a friend of mine, both to be handed over in return for the money. Or to be sent to the Pall Mall Gazette and his Lordship's club, should this matter not be settled to my own satisfaction."

The Colonel gave another harrumph but merely said, "It will take forty-eight hours to have the document drawn up."

"My eye!" Davager gave a nasty little laugh, "Do I look like the greenest fool you ever did see, Colonel? I'll meet you back here first thing tomorrow. You with the money and me with the letters."

"All three of them?"

"All three of them, aye."

The Colonel made to say something, then stopped as if a thought had just come to him, "Ah," he said regretfully, "there may be a problem with the time you suggest."

"And why would that be, Colonel?"

"I'm afraid I have a prior engagement; a breakfast meeting, you might say. Perhaps we might make it a quarter after eleven?"

Again the long pause as Davager assessed the Colonel, then, "Aye, alright then. A quarter after eleven tomorrow, back here and perhaps even with another of these very fine cigars besides, eh Colonel?"

"Please," the sounds of movement came again, "take one with you, Mr Davager and enjoy it after your evening meal."

"Most kind, Colonel, most kind indeed. I am pleased that I got to deal with such a pleasant gent as yourself and not some hot-headed youth who might get funny ideas in his head."

"I find such matters are best dealt with in a cool, detached sort of way, don't you Mr Davager?"

"I do indeed. So then, Colonel, I'll bid you good day and look forward to our next meeting."

Footsteps on the wooden floor of the room were followed by the door opening and Colonel Adams calling for Francis to see Mr Davager out. Only when the door was closed firmly behind him did the Colonel call Vastra and Jenny into the room.

"Well, ladies, I have rarely had the misfortune to deal with such an ugly, dirty little creature as your Mr Davager! Low in the forehead, flat in the stomach and weak in the legs. The worst sort of human being. Did you hear him well enough? Should I repeat the conversation?"

"You need not, Colonel," Vastra said, "we heard it all most clearly."

"He didn't even attempt to deny any of it. Quite the opposite; revealed in it, he did, positively revealed in it!"

"He's certainly full of himself," Jenny agreed.

"You need to make sure to get hold of all three copies," Colonel Adams said, "or he will most certainly go through with his threats."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Jenny grinned, "our friend Archie will be watching him like a hawk. He'll work out where those letters are."

"I am relieved to hear it, Miss Flint."

"We really can't thank you enough, Colonel Adams," Vastra said and took his hand, "You have done a great service to a deserving young couple."

"My pleasure," he flushed under his whiskers, "My pleasure indeed, Madame. Should I expect to be back here at eleven tomorrow?"

"You should not, I trust."

"And you will let me know how this business works out? I should be most happy to hear that Davager had got his comeuppance."

"You and me both, Colonel," Jenny said, "You and me both."


	3. Chapter 3

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Vastra and Jenny had decided to take a meal on their way home. Having scandalised the gentleman of The Army And Navy Club, they had repeated the feat at Simpson's-in-the-Strand, causing quite a stir amongst Fleet Street's finest. Jenny considered it a day very well spent but couldn't help feel sorry for her companion, who quietly seethed beneath her lace and gloves.

"I confess, my dear, that I am most pleased to return home."

"Yes, Madame, I thought as much. You really shouldn't take it all to heart; it's just how it is around here. What's it like with your people then?"

Vastra gave a little sigh that Jenny interpreted as regret and was about to say something when a familiar voice chirped up behind them.

"Fancy meeting you here."

They turned to find Archie strolling along the street, hat tipped back at a jaunty angle and smile firmly set on face.

"Master Archie," Vastra said.

Her tone had the young lad smartening up in a moment, his smile shifting to concern and his posture to a wary set.

"Somethin' not right?"

"Madame's had a difficult day," Jenny explained and smiled at him to ease his fears.

"You have news to report?" Vastra said.

"Aye, I do. That Davager's a nasty piece of work, I'd say. Certainly not one I'd let my Mosa anywhere near."

"You would be very wise, I think. But his movements?"

"Left The Rag and went calling on an old friend, some drunkard sitting outside a hostelry of sorts," he did not need to state of which sort, "They had a good old natter."

"Were any letters passed between them?"

"No, Madame," Archie thought for a moment, "nothing like that, just chatter."

"And then?" Jenny prompted.

"Then he goes inside for a little and comes out very pleased with 'imself. Filthy old bast-" Archie looked into Vastra's veiled face. Once you'd seen what lay beneath, you tended to imagine the expression she might wear at any given moment. And at that given moment, Archie doubted that her expression was one of indulgence. He continued, "Anyhow, he came out of there and went back to have his dinner at the Cross. Smoked a very fine cigar, or so Mr Davies said, and drank enough to sink a sailor. After that he had to be helped to his bed by Davies and that's when I left."

"Very good, I -" Vastra began but Archie interrupted.

"Oh, sorry Madame, but I just thought; Davies says to be there at half past six sharp."

"Excellent."

"Yes, well done Archie," Jenny said, "Now you get yourself off to Mosa and be back at the Cross by seven, eh?"

"Right you are, Miss," Archie said, his old cheeky manner back in place.

He tipped his hat and left them to walk the final few yards to Paternoster Row and their home. Early the next morning they rose and left, hailing one of the rare Hansoms at such a time and arriving at The Golden Cross five minutes before they were due.

Jenny introduced Vastra to Esme Wade and they took a cup of astonishingly strong tea as they waited for Mr Davies to join them. He did so with Davager's coat, trousers and boots in hand, though unsullied by his attentions. He handed them over to Jenny with a look of grim satisfaction.

The boots were set aside after a cursory inspection and there were no pockets in the trousers to hold their attention either. Jenny held the coat up so that Vastra could access each pocket in turn. There was a used handkerchief which Vastra set aside most gingerly and a bunch of keys in one outside pocket, a cigar case and rough matches in the other. Jenny opened the case and checked inside but found nothing unexpected.

She took one cigar from its bed and sniffed it, "Blimey, he certainly didn't get them from The Rag."

Vastra then turned her attention to the inside pockets, one of which harboured Davager's pocketbook.

"We couldn't be that lucky, could we?" Jenny said.

"I very much doubt it, my dear."

Vastra opened the wallet and rifled through the cards, clippings and receipts that were contained within, reading each one before replacing it carefully. There was little more than a few pennies stored in the pouch and somewhat to Vastra's surprise, a lock of hair held together with a dirty piece of ribbon. She secured the pouch once more and finally considered the notebook.

The first few sheets of rough paper held names and addresses written in pencil. The hand was small and untidy but not unreadable. After that there was a page of bets written in red ink, some scratched out but with no other annotation.

"Well," Jenny said, "based on that, I'd say he needs the money."

"My dear?"

"Grimwald got flattened in the fifth and Clarke barely made it through the third." Vastra turned to stare at her companion, causing Jenny to explain, "Boxing, Madame; he's betting on the fisticuffs."

"Indeed?" Vastra said, her attention lingering on Jenny for a moment longer before she returned to the pocketbook.

The next page caught her eye and Vastra showed it to Jenny with a tilt of her hand. It read: MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS.

"A code Madame?"

"Or directions?"

Jenny reached into her own pocket and pulled out a notebook and pencil. She made an exact copy of the memorandum and then Vastra ensured that there was no sign of disturbance in the pocketbook before replacing it in Davager's pocket and handing the jacket over to Mr Davies.

He and Mrs Wade had stood back, rapt by the whole affair. Vastra thought it a very little affair to hold such interest, particularly for two people employed in such an establishment. An establishment that was beginning to awaken too. Mr Davies took up Davager's things and quickly set to his work, while Esme bustled about the kitchen, issuing orders to her slightly more plentiful early morning staff.

Vastra and Jenny watched them work for a few moments and then saw Archie in the doorway, tipping his hat in greeting. The three colleagues found a quiet spot out of everyone's way and spoke for a few minutes.

"Davager's called for his breakfast at a half past seven," Archie said without preamble.

"He'll have to go to collect the other letters," Jenny said.

Vastra considered for a moment before saying, "He will, my dear. Master Archie, you are tasked with appropriating two letters - perhaps forming one package - of the utmost importance."

"Right you are then," the lad said in his usual easy tone. A sharp look from Vastra had him straightening and he added, "Get the paperwork off of him. Or maybe this pal of his, yes?"

"You may be right."

"Whatever happens, we can't let him keep hold of any copy of this letter," Jenny said.

"He could have everything upstairs."

"That I doubt," Vastra said, "though I trust we will have occasion to find out soon enough."

In fact, it was over an hour before Davager left the Cross, Archie trailing along behind him. The two women watched them go and then begged Esme Wade to clear their path to Davager's room. Most of the hotel's guests had either left early to attend to their business or remained downstairs taking a late breakfast and the landing which lead to Davager's room was empty save for a little maid who Jenny had met the day before. One stern look from Esme and she turned away, leaving Vastra and Jenny free to slip into Davager's room without witness.

He had taken one of the Cross's best - and most expensive - rooms, one with a large four-poster bed and plenty of space. The walls were nicely papered and the room light and airy. Taking up some of the expanse of carpeted floor were his trunk, along with a dressing case, drawers and cupboard. All of them stood open and ready for inspection.

"Well, he knew we were coming," Jenny said, "Got to admire his gumption."

"This display at least tells us that the letter is here, my dear. Why else attempt to make it so obvious that it is not?"

"Right then," Jenny looked around again, "where to start?"

They divided the room between them and gave all of the invitingly open furniture a cursory glance before examining the rest of the room in earnest. They then returned to the opened trunk and drawers, turning them over and around to view each part of each item from every possible angle. It took them almost an hour and Jenny noticed the set of Vastra's shoulders tightening as they passed onto each subsequent area of the room.

"Easy, Madame. At the very worst, it'll be on his person when he goes off to The Rag and we can get it then."

"I would much prefer to avoid such a situation, my dear, and I remain quite sure that the letter is here for us to find. Would you have a measuring device in one of those remarkable pockets of yours?"

Jenny reached for an inside pocket and pulled out a seamstresses' measure. She handed it over to Vastra and watched as her companion opened the tape out to five inches or so, her head moving as she scanned the room for anything that looked a likely candidate to match the size.

Two items caught Vastra's eye and she moved about, measuring each twice before returning to Jenny's side, tape still held open.

"The wallpaper, Madame?"

They examined the wall closely but there was no discernible pattern to the design of trellis-work and flowers upon a green background. They then turned their attentions to the layout of the furniture but, again, there was no pattern to it save for the necessities of their arrangement, certainly nothing that matched some count of five in one direction and four in another.

Vastra straightened from her examination of the skirting board and lifted her head to consider the more ornate woodwork that ran around the top of the walls. Yet still nothing could be made to conform to the required measurements.

Vastra noticed Jenny staring at the fringed curtains that were held back from the window. She strode over and yanked them free from their stays, pulling them together and standing back. Jenny counted under her breath as they both tallied the number of tassels. Vastra then turned to the bed and repeated the exercise on the covers that draped prettily from around the top of the posts.

"Nothing," she hissed.

Jenny took the measuring tape from Vastra's hands and clambered up on to the bed. She rocked dangerously for a moment, then found her balance and waded around the large, soft mattress to measure anything and everything within sight.

Dropping down, she said, "Nor there, Madame," in a bitter tone.

The two women stood together in the centre of the room, staring around them as if the letter could be bought to hand by nothing but the force of their combined annoyance. Vastra made a guttural sound and Jenny took her hand, hoping to calm the boiling anger that threatened to overtake her lover.

A sound from outside the door made them both start. Jenny released Vastra's hand and hitched up her coat sleeves, pulling her hands up in a threatening posture. The door opened just a crack and Esme Wade's voice hissed at them.

"You two done yet?"

"Just a little while more, Esme."

"Make it quick, eh? The bastard could be back any minute now and we need to get the room straightened out."

"Fear not, Mrs Wade, we will not be long."

"Right you are then, Madame," Esme said and then closed the door with a gentle click.

Jenny made to move for the door but stopped when she realised that Vastra's attention was fixed on her feet. Jenny stared down at the handmade shoes that Vastra wore. They were expensive and made by a cobbler who Jenny knew to be trustworthy; Vastra's instep being somewhat unusual compared to a humans.

"I have been a fool, my dear."

"I doubt that very much, Madame."

Vastra dropped to the floor in one smooth motion and Jenny knelt down beside her. She watched as Vastra studied the flooring carefully. It had been a very good quality piece upon purchase but was now much used, probably first in the public rooms downstairs before being demoted to the bedroom to serve out its remaining days. It was now a paled brown colour but would have been quite dark originally. The brown was speckled with bunches of roses and leaves, each set from its neighbours at regular intervals.

Vastra counted aloud and then said, "So, ten across the room and eight to its depth."

"A nice convenient measure, I'd say," Jenny said, already crawling to the centre of the room.

Vastra joined her and they examined the central patch of rose-covered carpet. Vastra played her palm along the surface before clawing at the pile with her fingers.

Jenny batted her hand aside and ran her more sensitive human skin over the material. She returned to one particular area and picked at it with her nail until it gave a little and a tiny opening could be seen. Vastra's larger fingers took up one side of the fissure and the two women eased the carpet back, parting it enough to reveal a slit that opened onto the floorboards beneath.

Vastra freed Jenny's hand, holding the carpet open on both sides while her companion's smaller hands reached within. They did so and after a moment of muttered searching, withdrew slowly, a thin collection of folded papers lightly caught between Jenny's fingertips.

Jenny handed the papers to Vastra, who opened them to reveal one piece of darker, older paper with faded ink in an old-fashioned hand and another, newer sheet that copied the contents of the first in fresher ink.

"The cunning bugger," Jenny muttered.

"Indeed," Vastra said while standing.

She helped Jenny up and made to speak but an urgent little knock at the door interrupted her. The door opened before she could bid them enter and the nervous little maid poked her head around, eyes closed tight.

"Mrs Wade says I'm not to see a thing but to tell you two," the girl hesitated, "bleedin' hurry up - beggin' your pardon, Madame - and get out now."

Jenny grinned at the message, "We will this very minute. Madame?"

Vastra's veiled face turned to confirm that the room had been left as they found it. She stretched out her foot to pat down the raised section of carpet but Jenny stopped her.

Reaching into her pocket once more, she pulled out her notebook and pencil and wrote something in her careful hand. Flashing the note to Vastra for a moment, she then folded the paper and dropped down to ease it through the opening and under the carpet in place of the papers they had removed.

That done, the two women left the room, leaving the maid to go in and tidy up to Mrs Wade's satisfaction. They moved quickly to clear the landing and staircase. Mr Davies waved them into a more private little alcove of the public area which afforded them a good view of the entrance.

Davager strolled through only moments later. He was looking very pleased with himself and Jenny was even more glad of what might be considered a spiteful gesture. She and Vastra concluded their business with Mr Davies by recompensing both himself and Esme Wade for their assistance.

Jenny lead them on the short walk through the public space, just as Archie entered it in front of them. With nothing but a twitch of his hand, a folded piece of paper appeared for just the second that was required to allow Jenny to take it from him. The whole business was done so effortlessly that Vastra marvelled at the skill required to carry out such an exchange. Her admiration for her companion and their young friend increased, as did her unease at the sort of life that might teach such skills.

She set the thought aside as Archie passed her and hissed, "He ain't gonna like this, Madame."

And then he was lost into the room at large and they were out into the light of a London morning. Jenny hailed a cab to take them to Mrs Dayton's boarding house.

They descended the Hansom to find Mr Gatliffe already at the door, his hands fidgeting once more, his eyes shifting nervously between Jenny and Vastra. Jenny smiled at him and Vastra gave a faint nod. It was all that was required to cause the young man's tension to fall away, replaced by a beaming smile. He quite forgot himself and rushed forward to take Jenny's hand in a warm hold.

"You've done it then? I can't tell you how relieved I am."

"I do not believe you need to, Mr Gatliffe," Vastra said and offered her own hand in a more staid gesture, "Miss Wilcox is at home?"

"She is. You must come in and tell her the good news."

They did as asked and found Miss Wilcox and Mrs Dayton waiting in a tense sitting room. Again the relief was palpable and Jenny had to reassure the younger woman twice over before she could quite believe it.

"You really are miracle workers," Mrs Dayton said as she left the room to make a fresh pot of tea, "Miracle is the only word."

"You are all most kind," Vastra said, "but it was no trouble at all."

That earned her a long, knowing look from her companion but it was answered with nothing more than a twitch of her veil until they were safely installed in another Hansom Cab, this time heading back to Paternoster Row and the Adams' residence to inform the Colonel of their success.

"No trouble at all," Jenny teased her.

"Well," Vastra's uncovered cheeks flared a deeper green, "perhaps a very little trouble. Though largely for Mr Davager and the gentleman of The Army And Navy Club."

* * *

At The Golden Cross, having celebrated with a swift half in the bar and looking forward to another fine cigar from The Rag, Mr Alfred Davager returned to his room. He noted that it had been tidied by the pretty little maid who blushed so nicely under his attentions and wondered if anyone else had been snooping around.

"No mind, Alfred," he said to himself as he strode to the centre of the room and dropped to his knees.

He scratched at the carpet with his dirty nails and managed to snag the loose threads that denoted the edge of the slit in the carpet. Pulling it back, he wormed one of his fat fingers into the hole and eased the sheet of paper forward.

He stopped, glancing down at the carpet in concern. Something didn't feel right and he scrambled with two fingers to pull out the surprisingly thin sheaf from its hiding place. He stared at it in horror, looking around the room as if someone might remain, hidden in the corners and watching his discomfort.

Davager calmed himself and slowly opened the paper. He blinked at it, staring hard for a few moments in mute astonishment before bellowing out his rage in a string of curses.

He looked back at the paper and re-read the simple, handwritten message: "Change for a five-hundred pound note."


End file.
